Path of the Mercenary
by Celtic Guardian 7
Summary: We see the game through Lloyd Irving's eyes. That leaves many stories untold to players, one for each person involved. This is Kratos Aurion's story, focusing on his perspective and feelings. SPOILER WARNING: Do not read unless you have beaten the game.


From this point on are spoilers. If you have not beaten the game and you do not want story elements to be spoiled, please leave now. I do not wish to ruin anybody's gaming experience.

Now that that has been said… Tales of Symphonia is a game I really enjoyed. I play mainly for plot and characters, and while Tales of Symphonia is sometimes called the pinnacle of clichés, I love it. The way the characters interact is great, especially with the skits.

Kratos Aurion is my favorite character and is one of my favorites from all of the video games that I have played. I took his path the first time I played the game and was thrilled with it. Ever since then, I was interested in writing a fan fiction that centered around him.

This fan fiction will follow Kratos' perspective in the game. It will all center around him, so big parts of the game will be cut out simply because he was not with the group at those times. So this cannot be called a novelization, although it will be similar to one.

I actually started writing this a long time ago, but did not have a chance to put it up. Now I finally can, and I hope it will be enjoyed. It won't get updated as much as some of my fanfics, but its' a nice side project.

***Chapter One: A Meeting of Destiny***

It was early morning in Sylvarant, another morning amongst millions that had come and gone in this world. Another morning that seemed no different from the ones before it. Yet many cherished it, observed it, hailed its simple beauty, for they had limited life spans and made it a top priority to use every precious second at their disposal. The bright sunlight streaming from the sky made this an even more appropriate day to hail.

Kratos Aurion was sure that it was mocking him.

The lone swordsman was walking across the flat land covered with healthy, green grass. He barely spared his surroundings a glance; more important matters pressed at his mind. Even if an animal would be brave enough to attempt a foolish attack on him, it would be dead before it could blink, whether Kratos was distracted or not.

Not many would risk such an assault against him anyway; Kratos' appearance saw to that. He wore a dark purple outfit with blue fingerless gloves and brown boots. His dark red, spiked hair nearly touched his shoulders, while one part of it always hung over his left eye. Those eyes were one of the three main reasons that most knew why attacking him was such a stupid idea. They were dark brown, almost red, and were cold and hard. Nearly anyone looking into them would try to turn away as soon as possible from those emotionless eyes.

The second reason came in the form of a broadsword that was in a brown sheath. It was strapped to his left side in open view. A shield covered his left arm as well. The number of scars on that shield proved that he had been in many battles and had triumphed in all of them.

The third reason was on his left hand, in the form of a blue sphere that was about two inches in diameter. The Exsphere, inserted onto a dull gold mount with various symbols carved into it, glistened brightly as the sun's rays reflected off it. The way it seemed to pulse made it almost appear to be alive.

Well, it technically was, Kratos reminded himself. But he usually tried not to think about that. Even if a human soul was in it, so what? He had not known who it was. It was just another human among countless others who had met the same fate. That was what most of his comrades thought, anyway. Kratos actually felt regret for the person occasionally. There was no point in not using the Exsphere though. The person was already dead. At least by using it, the sacrifice would not be in vain.

This morning, however, Kratos barely thought of his Exsphere. Nor did he appreciate the new day. He had been a witness to over four thousand years worth of mornings. They held no special splendor to him.

Kratos had a more important thought in mind: his task. Today was the day of the new Chosen of Sylvarant. Yet another was coming forth. Another lamb for the slaughter, in Kratos' mind. Over the years, he had brought the Chosen to their deaths. He had lost count after the tenth, and he did not desire to try and recall how many there had been.

Ah, the things he had been rightfully branded… backstabber, double-crosser, and most simply yet accurately, traitor. Kratos accepted them without response. It was all true; there was no need to get mad at the name-callers for such titles.

Now he would be doing it again. A new innocent would be sacrificed, and Kratos would play a large role in making sure everything went according to plan. So much time, effort, and lives went into the Journey of Regeneration. It all had to go according to plan.

How pointless it all was.

On Mithos' orders-no, _Lord Yggdrasill's_ orders-Kratos has brought him the Chosen, all of them. None of them had worked as a body for Martel, his leader's sister and Kratos' old friend. So many had died for one person. Even worse, Kratos was sure Martel would not want this. She would disapprove of this slaughter that was being conducted solely for her revival. Kratos knew it.

As if Lord Yggdrasill would listen to that. Ever since his beloved sister had died at the hands of humans, he had acted like a madman to get her back. He was positive everything would be right once Martel was back, once she was truly alive.

That was not all his ideals were based on. Discrimination was one of Lord Yggdrasill's worst enemies. He wished to eliminate it completely by making all races the same. By having an age of lifeless beings, they would never have to fear discrimination again.

For most of his life, Kratos had followed Lord Yggdrasill faithfully, not knowing of anything better to live for. His ideals had sounded the best out of all the ones Kratos had heard, and he had not known of another way to think.

Until he had met Anna.

Kratos shook his head. _No. Now is not the time to think of that._

Striving to get his mind away from painful memories, Kratos turned his attention to the structure he was approaching. The stone temple, Martel's Temple, was easy to see since it stood on a tall hill. Kratos had been to it before, and his act allowed him to share a bit of information to the Chosen about it if she needed it. That would not be a concern until he found her though.

As he began to walk up the dirt path that led to the temple, which soon became a staircase. When he reached that area, a sudden clash of metal caught his attention. He knew the sounds of fighting when he heard them, and they were coming from the front of the temple.

Instantly on guard, Kratos drew his sword and ran up the steps. Judging what day it was, he doubted that a fight breaking out here was merely a coincidence. It meant that the Chosen's life was in danger.

Four people were at the immediate top of the stairs. One was a girl who held two chakram and was slumped over, exhausted. Another was a young boy that had a strange item in his hands that Kratos recognized as a kendama, a child's toy of all things. He also appeared fatigued by the way he was kneeling.

The other boy was what really caught Kratos' attention. He was on his knees as well, holding himself up by using one of his two wooden swords as a prop. His eyes were closed as a spiked metal ball flew at him.

The spiked ball was attached to a chain that the last person wielded. He was a brute of a man with green clothing and gray armor over it, along with a gray helmet that had ram horns that went over his eyes. This muscled man was apparently fighting against the other three, and he was winning.

Something had caused the boy with wooden swords to stand out, but whatever it was, there was no time to think about it. If this group was supporting the Chosen-which was who that girl probably was-it was his job to assist.

Kratos ran up the final few stairs and swung his sword sharply. It clashed against the ball, causing it to go flying back towards the man, who managed to spin it in a swift circle before catching it to lighten the shock of the recoil. It was obvious that he was startled by the new arrival though, for he exclaimed, "What?"

"Who are you?" someone said from behind him. Kratos turned his head slightly to look back and see that it was the boy with wooden swords who had asked.

There was no way these children could have much battle experience if they were losing in a three-on-one battle. It would be up to him to defeat this man. All Kratos said was, "Get out of the way," before sprinting towards his foe.

The man hastily spun his ball-and-chain and swung it towards Kratos, who twisted to the side and used the momentum to power his swing. His sword bit deeply into the man's side, where there was no armor to protect him. The man snarled in pain and tried to strike him over the head with his elbow. Kratos sidestepped the blow and stabbed into the already-wounded area, causing the man to stagger. One more hard thrust was all Kratos had to do. The man fell to the ground, slain.

"Vidarr!" a man's voice cried.

With the fighter-supposedly Vidarr-dead, Kratos looked up to see who had shouted. It was a man wearing a red outfit and gray armor, with a helmet that was similar to Vidarr's. He was not the only one there though. Several other men that wore identical outfits to him were also there.

Desians? They certainly looked like it, yet… something was wrong with them…

Kratos turned his gaze to the man that was in the center of the group, who stood out like a beacon amongst the crowd of identical soldiers. His clothes were white and black, and he carried a huge red sword. His black hair had a split in the center, causing it to stand to the sides of his head, and his brown eyes were melded into a stern face that was currently grimacing.

"I never thought you'd show up," the man said. "Damn… retreat for now!" The man and his soldiers sped away towards the back of the temple.

Kratos wiped his blade on Vidarr's corpse and sheathed it. He saw no reason to go after the fleeing enemies. Despite his strength, he would be outnumbered, which was not a favorable situation.

"Amazing!" he heard the girl say from behind him.

"This guy's incredibly strong!" one of the boys exclaimed. The younger one, judging by the high-pitched tone.

"Y-yeah… I suppose so…" the other said hesitatingly. Kratos recognized his voice from when he had asked for his name.

He turned to look at them more closely. The girl was first to catch his eye. She wore white clothes that were outlined in blue. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulder blades, and her bright blue eyes were shining in awe.

The young boy was next. His outfit was mainly light blue with some splashes of white. His silver hair, which fell to his shoulders, and his slightly pointed ears marked him as either an elf or half-elf. He held an expression of amazement, with his pale blue eyes wide.

The other boy came last. His clothing was mostly red, although his pants were black and two white straps fell from his shirt collar down his back. Even his gloves and boots were red. His brown hair stood up straight and was spiky. His dark brown eyes were fixated on the ground.

A glint of light caught Kratos' attention. On the boy's left hand was a white bandage that was wrapped around the middle, as if he suffered from a cut there. But the dull gold poking out of the edge from the back of his hand said otherwise. It could only be an Exsphere mount.

_An Exsphere? Nonsense. A boy like this could not own an Exsphere,_ Kratos thought.

Yet what else could it be? Besides, it would explain how the boy could fight against Vidarr before Kratos arrived. Most his age would be unable to take on a full-grown man like Vidarr. Having an Exsphere would explain where his power came from.

Kratos looked back at his face to see that the boy was now watching him. That face seemed… similar… as if he was…

_No. That is a ridiculous idea. Cast it aside._

Kratos ran his gaze over them again and forced himself to speak. "Is everyone all right?" Before they could respond, he answered his own question. "Hm… no one seems to be hurt."

An old woman approached them. Kratos had not noticed her before; she had probably been hiding while the fighting had been going on. She wore white priest robes and carried a brown walking staff. Her blonde hair fell to her waist, and her blue eyes were filled with relief.

"How can I ever thank you for saving the Chosen?" she said to Kratos gratefully.

Playing ignorant, Kratos looked at the girl. "I see. So this girl is the next Chosen."

The girl's eyes lit up in recollection. "That's right! I have to go accept the oracle!" She turned to the old woman. "Grandmother, I'm going to undergo the trial now." She then approached the entrance of the temple.

The older boy looked confused at that. "What trial?"

This was one of the facts Kratos did not mind revealing, so he explained by saying, "The monsters, I assume. An evil presence radiates from inside this chapel."

The woman nodded. "Yes, that is correct. The Chosen is to receive judgment from heaven." Her eyes darkened. "But the priests that were to accompany her fell at the hands of the Desians."

The older boy put his hand to his chest. "Then I'll take on the job of protecting Colette!"

Colette. That had to be the Chosen's name. Another name that would eventually be lost amongst his memories.

The woman looked at the boy doubtfully. "Lloyd? I would be uneasy with just you."

Kratos' breath caught in his throat. Lloyd. The boy's name was Lloyd. _It cannot be…_

"Your name is Lloyd?" Kratos asked. He had to have a confirmation. Maybe he had misheard due to the track his mind had taken earlier.

"Yeah," Lloyd answered. "But who are you to ask for my name?"

It was too coincidental. His facial features, his Exsphere, his name…

_You do not know for sure._

Yet he was nearly positive. Nearly.

His mind turning, he managed to keep enough presence of mind to reply. "I am Kratos, a mercenary." He glanced at the woman. "As long as you pay me, I'll accept the job of guarding the Chosen."

The woman apparently did not notice his inner turmoil. Kratos had practiced keeping his face and tone emotionless for a long time, and it was paying off. "Under the circumstances, I have little choice. Please be of service."

"It's a deal then," Kratos said. At least the fight had done some good. He had been able to gain the woman's trust in his skills fairly easily due to it.

"W-wait!" Lloyd exclaimed, causing them to all look over at him. "I'm going too!"

If Lloyd was who Kratos thought he was, the last thing he wanted was for him to get involved in this whole scheme. Kratos looked at him sternly and said, "Lloyd, you'll only get in the way. Be a good boy and wait here."

Lloyd looked like he was about to make a snapping retort, but then he smirked. "Gotcha. Then I'm just going to follow you on my own."

Kratos could not help but smile slightly at that. "You're a stubborn kid." He went to the temple entrance, saying, "Fine. Do as you wish."

Arguing would get them nowhere, and he could not stop Lloyd from following if he wanted to. This would also give him the opportunity to observe the boy further. Besides, accompanying the Chosen on her first trial would not seal him into the plan Lord Yggdrasill had crafted. As long as this was all he did, Lloyd would not be in danger.

"I'll do just that!" Lloyd replied. Then he said to the younger boy, "Let's go, Genis!"

Genis sighed. "Lloyd, I figured you were going to say that."

"Of course!" Lloyd said.

"This isn't a field trip, you know," Kratos said to them before entering the temple. The trio followed him in.

To be continued…


End file.
